THe Secret of the Gifts

The Secret of the Gifts
by Paul Flucke
The story has been told for centuries now -- how Gaspar,
 Melchior and Balthasar brought gifts to the newborn king. Ah, you
 say, everyone knows. They brought gold, frankincense and myrrh.
  So it has been told.
But the story is incomplete. Listen to the rest. You shall 
learn the secret of the gifts.
Those who watched saw the first of the three visitors pause 
at the door: Gaspar, a wealthy man with a cloak of fine velvet,
 trimmed in flawless fur. They could not see that it was the Angel
 Gabriel, guarding the holy place, before whom Gaspar stopped.
"All who enter must bring a gift," Gabriel told Gaspar.
Struggling to lift a finely wrought box, Gaspar said, "I have 
brought bars of the finest gold."
"Your gift," Gabriel said, "must be something of the essence 
of yourself, something precious to your soul."
"Such have I brought," Gaspar said.
But as he kneeled to lay his gold before the child, he 
stopped and stood erect. In his outstretched hand lay not gold, but a hammer. Its scarred and blackened head was larger than a man's
 fist; its handle, of sinewy wood, as long as a man's forearm. Gaspar
 stammered, dumbfounded.
The angel said softly, "What you hold in your hands is the 
hammer of your greed, used to pound wealth from those who labor
 so that you may live in luxury, to build a mansion for yourself while
 others dwell in hovels."
Gaspar bowed his head in shame and turned to leave. But
 Gabriel blocked the way: "No, you have not offered your gift."
"Give this?" Gaspar blurted in horror. "Not to a king!"
"This is why you came," Gabriel said. "You cannot take it 
back. It's too heavy. Leave it here or it will destroy you."
"Why, the child cannot lift it," Gaspar protested.
"He is the only one who can," replied the angel.
Next to step to the door was Melchior, the scholar with the 
length of his beard and furrows of his brow to be speak the wisdom 
of age. He, too, paused before the door.
"What have you brought?" asked Gabriel.
"Frankincense, the fragrance of hidden lands and bygone
 days," Melchior replied.
"Your gift," cautioned Gabriel, "must be something precious
 to your soul."
Melchior stood breathless, kneeling reverently down to
 draw from beneath his robe a silver flask. But the vessel in his hand 
was not silver at all. It was common clay, tough and stained.  
Aghast, he pulled the stopper from its mouth and sniffed the
 contents.
"This is vinegar!" Melchior snarled.
"You have brought what you are made of," Gabriel said.
"Bitterness. The soured wine of a life turned grim with jealousy and 
hate; carried within too long, the memory of old hurts, hoarded
 resentments, and smoldering anger. You have sought knowledge,
 but filled your life with poison."
Melchior's shoulders drooped. Turning his face away, he 
fumbled to hide the earthen jar. Gabriel touched Melchior's arm:
"Wait, you must leave your gift."
Melchior sighed with pain deep from within. "But this is vile
 stuff," he protested. "What if the child should touch it to his lips?"
"You must leave that worry to heaven," Gabriel replied.
"There is use even for vinegar."
One more visitor strode forward: Balthasar, the leader of 
many legions and scourge of walled cities. He grasped a
brass-bound box.
"I bring myrrh," he said, "the most precious booty of my
boldest conquest. Many have fought and died for such as this, the
 essence of a most rare herb."
"But is it the essence of yourself?" Gabriel asked.
The soldier shuffled forward, bowing his head near the
 ground and releasing his grip on the handle of the box. But what he 
lay before the baby's feet was his own spear.
"It cannot be!" he whispered hoarsely. "Some enemy has
 cast a spell."
"That is more true than you know," Gabriel said from
 behind. "A thousand enemies have cast their spell on you and 
turned your soul into a spear. Living only to conquer, you have
 been conquered. Each battle you win leads only to another."
Balthasar grasped the weapon and turned to the door. "I
 cannot leave this."
"Are you sure?" Gabriel asked.
"But here?" the warrior whispered. "He is but a child. The
 spear could pierce his flesh."
"That fear you must leave to heaven," Gabriel replied.
What of the gifts, you ask -- the hammer, vinegar and spear.
  Another story tells how they were seen once more, years later, on a
lonely hill outside Jerusalem. But do not worry. That is a burden 
heaven itself took care of as only heaven can.








I've always enjoyed this story, despite knowing that it is simply a fabrication of the story.  We do not know for sure that the magi were kings.  We do not even know for sure that there were three of them.  The one thing we do know is the gifts that they brought. 

I just love the point of this story though?

Like the kings in the story, we all bring a gift to the table.  We all bring a gift to God.
Also like the kings in the story, we try to make our gifts to appear to be something they are not.  We try to put on a front to the world. 
My question is simple today...


What is the essence of the gift that you are bringing to God? 
No matter what that gift is, God can use it.  God does not ask for us to bring perfection to the table.
God does not ask for us to put up a front to the world, to appear holier and better than we are.

God simply ask for us to bring who we truly are to the table, and God promises to use that for good.

No matter how bad you think you are, no matter how ashamed you are of your life...God can use you.  God wants to use you.

What is the essence of your gift this holiday season?  Are you putting on a front for God, or are you really giving who you are to God?